Tone Down Your Life, You're Safe

Full title: Tone Down Your Life, You're Safe with Me

Part 2 of Only In Dreams

After a restless night of sleep, it was back to the studio for more filming. It was still hard for Alex, the day after his onscreen kiss with Greg. It was a gag, sure, but he had hoped it would somehow change his world. Or at least his dynamic with Greg.

But when he passed the subject of those hopes in the hallway, Greg was stiff. He didn't make eye contact. He half-grunted, half-spat his "'Morning, Alex," as he headed to his dressing room.

When Alex arrived in his own dressing room, he fell onto his chair and forced a slow, deep breath. Why was Greg stiff? Gruff? Why wouldn't he make eye contact?

What if the kiss had changed his dynamic with Greg.... for the worst?

In his mind's eye, the shark's teeth were coming for him again. And in his actual body, Alex's chest ached.

Filming that day was torturous. Alex was a professional, and could don his performer's mask, but a part of him obsessed over the uncomfortable encounter. Meanwhile Greg, who would normally almost sprawl on his throne and carelessly make his pronouncements, was now sitting completely upright. His posture was stiff, his legs crossed, and his hands were clasped tightly in his lap.

Greg's commentary was minimal, and crisp. It was biting, but not in his usual jocular way.

During a break, Alex took a deep breath as he realized he was going to need to approach Greg as his boss. He shoved down all the panicked concerns in his mind, and walked up to Greg as the latter was finishing at the loo.

"Greg," he said, and was relieved to hear that his voice was appropriately Producer-y, showcasing his best businessman-like clipped quality.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Is there a problem today? Your performance is... not at your usual quality."

Greg's eyebrow somehow raised higher, his tone melodically mocking. "Not at my 'usual quality,' eh? Well goodness, Little Producer Horne. I'll get right on that!" He barked out a bitter half-laugh, and strode away.

Alex watched him go. Greg hadn't denied he was different, which at least validated Alex's concern - Alex's anxieties weren't creating an illusion. But there was also no clarification on the source of Greg's mood.

There was also the bit about Greg being rude to his own boss. Alex knew he should probably do something about that, but couldn't find the heart.

Back at filming, Greg did not "get right on that." He was the same gruff, clipped, biting arse he was before the break. Alex wasn't sure what footage could possibly be cobbled together to make the type of lighthearted episode Taskmaster was known for.

So afterward, he followed Greg back to his dressing room. Greg was apparently lost in his own world, and nearly shut the door on him.

Alex stepped through and shut the door. He looked Greg over. Tension was visible throughout his friend's body. It was especially heartbreaking in those storm-gray eyes.

"Greg, can I ask-"

"No. Is there anything else?"

"It's just.... I'm not sure what we can salvage from today's filming. You growled at nearly everyone. Uh, in a way that was out of character, I mean..."

"Alex, I-"

"Greg," Alex quickly interjected, "Did I- well, is there something wrong? Something I can do? What's come over you?"

Greg stared at Alex for a moment. For a moment that angry mask slipped away. A tremendous hurt filled his eyes. They became glassy, and Alex felt cold as he realized it was from tears...

"Greg, I- Is it something I did? I'm sorry... Please, anything I can do..."

Confusion bloomed in Greg's eyes, banishing the tears. "Something you did?" He laughed softly, took a step forward, and brought his head down until his forehead rested gently on Alex's. "It's nothing you did, mate," he said softly. "Just something I have to deal with in my personal life. I'll get it sorted."

"Personal? Greg, I know I'm technically your boss but.... I hope you know you can come to me any time. As a friend."

Greg stood up again, and took a small step back. He looked at Alex, his expression now less readable. Perhaps curious? He reached over, gently settling his hand on Alex's shoulder. As his thumb rubbed softly, his eyes grew glassy again. "I've... I've got this one on my own. Thank you, and sorry. I'll do better at the next filming, promise."

They froze there for a moment. Alex tried to say something, anything, but found a lump in his throat. So they just looked into each other's eyes.

Finally, Greg closed his, and gestured with his free hand towards the door. Alex nodded several times, rapidly, and moved to leave. It felt wrong, it felt like the air was thick and his body was resisting and he was doing the worst thing.

As he stepped out, he managed "I'm... here, Greg. Anytime."

Eyes still closed, Greg nodded stiffly.

__________

Alex's thoughts darted like a confused hummingbird the whole way back to his flat. Occasionally he would lightly lay his hand on his shoulder, desperate to keep feeling the soothing rub of Greg's thumb.

The man's words had been convincing in their sincerity: Alex wasn't the source of his dark mood. But he also felt he couldn't share what was and that caused a different sort of ache within Alex. The pain that was so clear then, it had run through Greg's hand and poured into Alex. Alex felt his shoulder again and gently rubbed the spot - not to soothe himself, but because he was desperate to be soothing the hand that had been there. To be returning that tender gesture.

At home, he had a simple meal. He tried to write, but no words would come. He attempted to watch the telly, but he couldn't focus on that, either. He gave up, and went to bed early. After all, he'd not slept well the previous night. Maybe sleep would come quickly tonight, take him somewhere where he wasn't so powerless...

__________

After filming, he followed Greg back to his dressing room. Greg was apparently lost in his own world, and nearly shut the door on him.

Alex stepped through and shut the door. He looked Greg over. Tension was visible throughout his friend's body. It was especially heartbreaking in those storm-gray eyes.

Again he tried to get Greg to open up, and again it led to Greg's sad, soft gesture - his mighty hand gently set on Alex's shoulder, thumb gently rubbing gratitude for Alex's concern.

But Alex knew he was safe this time, in this place.

Alex closed his eyes and laid his cheek on Greg's fingers, brought his hand up, and gently rubbed the back of Greg's palm.

Alex was safe, now, to speak his heart without fear of his feelings disgusting this man he so admired.

"Greg, I can see- I can't bear you just hurting like this. I know I'm just a colleague. I know I'm your boss! But please, let me be here for you, please... as a concerned friend. As... whatever you want. Let me be here." Alex set his other hand on Greg's chest, over his mighty heart. He willed his sincerity through that connection.

Onscreen, Greg teased that Alex had an aversion to touch. The truth, like all truth, was a little more nuanced. Alex had an aversion to superficial touch. Touch was such a powerful connection between two people. It could be filled with so much meaning. How could someone ever touch another without meaning something important with it? Meaningless touch was absolutely abhorrent, in Alex's mind.

When Greg touched anyone, whether it be Alex on the show, or others elsewhere, it didn't come across as meaningless. It was a measure of the goodness of the man, how he used touch. It was inclusive, inviting the recipient to be a part of something he was enthused about, to share joy or interest. It was because Greg was just that full of love.

Alex found Greg's touches beautiful. He wanted so dearly to give back.

Greg looked down at the hand on his chest. His eyes closed, and his other hand reached up, covering it with warmth.

They stood like that for a moment, warmly connected. When they opened their eyes, they were sitting closely together on Alex's couch at home. Rain softly pattered on the windows, and a fire glowed from a dream-contrived fireplace.

Their hands left each other, folded into their respective laps.

"Greg, please, what is wrong?"

As Greg opened his mouth, the dream rippled and trembled. He was describing what was hurting him, but Alex's mind couldn't handle imagining a cause. Had Greg's mum passed? Another family member or friend? Had something else happened? Alex desperately wanted to dream of caring for him, but creating that awful thing happening to his Greg? The pain would be sharp enough to awaken Alex.

And so the dream melted and flowed around words that Alex knew were terrible, and he could see that Greg was saying his pain aloud to him. He could even feel real pain in his own reaction to this vaguely-formed revelation.

Brows knitted, mouth agape, and eyes filling with tears, Alex reached forward. He held Greg's face, and both leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "Greg, I'm..... I'm so sorry. I'm just..." Alex reached up and softly kissed Greg's forehead.

He pulled the great man over and around, until Greg was laying in Alex's lap. One of Alex's arms cradled Greg's head, holding him close. The other clasped one of Greg's hands, thumb softly stroking Greg's.

The rain fell gently. The fire flickered. And, softly, Greg began to cry.

Alex didn't notice at first, just softly stroked Greg's hand. The arm cradling Greg's head had a slight tension running through it, clutching gently in an endless hug. And it was that hand that felt the wet of tears rolling.

Once Alex was alerted to the tears, he became aware of the light shaking of Greg's gentle sobs.

Pain knitting Alex's brows together, he curled the rest of himself down, around Greg, trying to form a loving cocoon out his entire body. His head ended up on Greg's shoulder.

"It just... It hurts, Alex" Greg faintly rasped. "I don't know what to do, and it hurts "

Silently, Alex removed his hand from Greg's, and ran the backs of his fingers down Greg's cheek.

Alex became aware that the couch was too small for their combined forms. "Come with me," he said softly.

They stood, took a step forward, and the world rippled again. Alex's bed was set in that place of trees and light. The sunlight coming through the canopy above was soft on the eyes, and warming to the heart.

"Lay with me, Greg."

Greg nodded. He laid down with an arm out in a position that suggested he would pull Alex to his chest, but Alex shook his head.

Alex laid down next to Greg, slipped an arm underneath the larger man, and guided Greg around until they were facing each other. He pulled Greg's head into his own chest, rested his head on top of Greg's head, and wrapped his arms around him.

Greg tensed up. "I'm.... a big man, Alex. I must look ridiculous, held like a baby. I can't-" he started to push away.

But Alex tightened his arms a moment. "Greg, you're hurting. Anyone hurting deserves that moment to be held, to be loved. Greg, please... let me love you."

Greg stopped struggling. He looked up at Alex, his eyes widened with surprise. They shifted to gratitude, then filled again with tears. He curled into Alex's chest, and began to heave with his sobs.

"Oh Alex, I just don't know what to do with this. And I'm supposed to be strong. The big man, invincible! I'm not supposed to break down. But how could I not? How could I not..."

"Greg, just lie with me. Just let me hold you."

The larger man looked up again. "Thank you. I... always wanted to know you better. There was something... so beautiful... in that kiss."

Alex closed his eyes a moment at the warm hope that flared within. "I hoped you could feel that, so much. I want to be here for you, Greg. I love you."

Alex leaned down, and kissed the tear tracks just underneath each of Greg's eyes. He brought his head back for just a moment, taking and giving a soulful look. Then he leaned down again, and pressed his lips to Greg's.

It was a kiss that was chaste by any basic definition, perfectly still. And yet... the most emotionally passionate imaginable. In that stillness, through that most serious form of touch, Alex willed through all of his love, admiration, and care for Greg. And Greg willed his right back.

__________

In Alex's real bed, where he really slept, Alex was curled around similarly to his dreamself. He held one of his pillows tight to his chest in the embrace he couldn't give. And for a time he slept the warmest, most peaceful sleep he'd had in a very long time.